Where Could This Possibly Take Us?
by Property of Marcus Flint
Summary: Marcus FlintOliver Wood SLASH RATING FOR LANGUAGE AND THEMES Oliver has feelings for Marcus, what happens when Marcus has feelings for him too? Where could it go? sorry I'm not too good at this please R&R R&R R&R!
1. Walking in Dark Corridors

Warning: ***SLASH***SLASH***SLASH***SLASH***SLASH***SLASH***  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.  
  
A/N: I'm still new at this, so be gentle. PLEASE R&R!! I could use any advice.  
  
Where could this possibly take us?  
  
CHAPTER 1  
  
'Looks like more top marks in potions' thought Marcus, pulling his robes on in preparation to exit Snape's chamber. 'If only my other courses were so easy to pass. He didn't even know how it had started, but suddenly during his fifth year Marcus was so far ahead of the other students in the class and had the highest marks. And didn't Professor Snape turn his head every time Marcus was late or didn't show up. Yes, fucking the potions master certainly did have its advantages. "See ya tomorrow Professor." Marcus said as he shut the door.  
  
"FUCK!" exclaimed Marcus as he rounded the corner and ran into something.  
  
"OW!" Oliver yelped falling backwards and hitting the floor hard . "Watch it Wood." Flint growled from above him.  
  
"Marcus, what are you doing...? Walking around in the dark I mean," said Oliver staring up at Marcus obviously shocked.  
  
"That, Wood is none of your concern," Marcus snapped, "What's this?" he asked picking up a red notebook Wood had dropped.  
  
"Give me that!" Oliver demanded beginning to get off the floor only to be held down by Flint's boot planted squarely on his chest. It didn't hurt too much, it wasn't intended to, just to keep him down.  
  
"Ah, stupid muggle paper." Marcus casually stated tossing the notebook down the corridor. Oliver made another move to get free and Marcus applied a bit more pressure to make it hurt and Oliver stopped moving. "Now," Marcus began, crouching down without removing his foot from Wood's chest, "What are you doing walking about at this time, it's not safe." Flint grinned his famous 'I'm Marcus fucking Flint' grin revealing his no longer crooked teeth, a grin most people saw before he knocked them out or after a victory for Slytherin The latter was not so common these days.  
  
"Working on Quidditch plays. not that it's any of your business Flint, now let me up befo-"  
  
"Before what? Wood what the hell do you think your gonna do?" Flint now had two fistfuls of Oliver's robes. Oliver didn't say anything. He and Flint had argued many times but Marcus never had the chance to physically harm him before. "That's better Wood, just keep your mouth shut and learn your place. This is your warning." Oliver cringed awaiting the hit, but it didn't come. Marcus didn't do it, something happened, but he just couldn't hit Wood, not tonight. 


	2. The Air at Night

Warning: This is still slash.well sort of. Anyway it will be.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.  
  
A/N: Sorry this took so long. Thank you all for your support and advice. I will try to write longer chapters. Please continue to R&R!!! I could still use any advice. Thank you again. All reviews are appreciated but please go easy on me a lot of this was done at like 3 am. Oh and did I say please R&R? yes? Oh well couldn't hurt to say it again. Please R&R, R&R, R&R!!! Thanx!  
  
CHAPTER 2  
  
'Why the fuck couldn't I fucking hit him?' Marcus thought bitterly as he walked away from the idiot still cowering on the floor. 'I could hit him,' he assured himself, 'I chose not to hit him, that's what it is, I didn't want to hit him. wait why didn't I want to hit him?' Marcus ran his hands through his sex tousled black hair. "FUCK!" he shouted crossly only to be frustrated further by noticing that he had been headed in the complete wrong direction since he had left Wood recoiling on the floor. "Fuck," he repeated in a much lower much more weary tone which he allowed no one to hear. Since he was already headed away from the dungeons and had no desire to turn around and pass Oliver Wood again, Marcus decided to go out to the quidditch field and fly around a bit to clear his mind, not that his mind needed clearing he told himself. "Accio Nimbus 2001," Flint commanded and waited for his broomstick.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
'Why didn't he hit me?' Oliver thought as he picked himself up off the floor and walked to where his notebook had landed after Flint threw it. Oliver liked using muggle writing supplies rather than the traditional quill and parchment, pens and notebooks just seemed so much more logical. 'He could have hit me, but he didn't, he just walked away' Wood's head was beginning to hurt and he told himself not to over analyze it. 'Flint's been known to knock out some ones teeth for looking at him wrong, so why did he just. ..stop thinking about it.' But Oliver couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop thinking about him. There had always been something, somewhat of an attraction, competitive intrigue as Oliver called it, "It's just that it helps to understand what you're up against" he had often said to the team. Oliver completely forgot why he had been headed down to the dungeons for in the first place and headed back to the dormitory to fetch his broom, he always came up with the best plays while he was flying around the field at night; he didn't even notice the rider less broom pass him on his way down the corridor back to the stairs.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
The air had the chill October as the wind bit the back of Marcus's neck when he kicked off the ground. 'Fuck,' thought Marcus, 'Who the FUCK does Wood think he is anyway? What gives him the right to.to.to.uh.what did he do?' Flint questioned himself. "To piss me off!" Marcus justified himself out loud. Flying higher still, letting the cool are lick his face, Marcus began to feel at ease, but Oliver Wood remained on the Slytherin's mind. Marcus groaned, 'None of this matters, I didn't want to hit him, so I didn't. Case closed. That's the end of it.' To finish convincing himself, Flint flew around in circles, through the goals, up and down, through the stands, and all around as fast as he could. If he had to worry about flying into something, Marcus couldn't very well focus on Wood, now could he? Obviously not, for he did not see Wood approaching from the castle, didn't see him getting on his broom, and certainly did not see the alarmed and confused look on Wood's face right before he crashed into him.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ ~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*  
  
Oliver shivered as he walked out of the castle. 'What's the matter with him anyway?' Oliver wondered, 'Why does he always have to prove how evil he is why can't he just be normal, accept defeat every once in awhile? Is he really cruel or is it an act and if so why? Why are all slytherins assholes? Why do I care?' Wood could not stop thinking about it until he mounted his broom, at which point he forced himself to think of new strategies for next week's game. He kicked off the ground slightly harder than he had meant to, and was about to fly a couple of laps when he looked up just in time to see Flint's shoulder crash into his face. Oliver toppled backwards off his broom and hit the ground with a soft thud. 


	3. Mixed Emotions

Warning: Yep. This is still slash.well sort of. Anyway it will be.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.  
  
A/N: Sorry this took so long and that it is so short. That is the main  
reason it took so long is that I got stuck at the end, but now I have  
decided that it is a good place to end the chapter. Thank you all for  
your support and advice. I will continue to try to write longer and  
better chapters. Please continue to R&R!!! I could still use any advice.  
Thank you again. Oh and did I say please R&R? Yes? Oh well couldn't hurt  
to say it again. Please R&R, R&R, R&R!!! Thanx!  
And extra special thanx to my X-men buddy (you know who you are) and to  
Cookie, and to Jess, you three are angels. If I get enough reviews, the  
next chapter will take much less time.  
  
CHAPTER 3  
  
"Strike two, Wood, you should really watch where you're going Oliver!" Flint began casually, but spat Oliver's name at him like venom.  
  
"You ran into me, Flint!" protested Oliver indignantly.  
  
"Tsk, tsk. Now must we result to telling lies, Wood, I thought you Gryffindorks were above such things," Marcus said mockingly, for some reason amused and sort of happy.  
  
"WHAT?!" said Oliver pulling himself off the ground and dusting off his robes. He had just opened his mouth to retaliate when Flint cut him off.  
  
"Did I tell you to get up?" Marcus sounded completely serious, and when Oliver only looked at him, he said again, "WOOD, Did I tell you to get up?" this time with a slightly sadistic tone over top of the serious one.  
  
"I don't think I need your permission and frankly."  
  
"That's not what I asked," Marcus cut him off, "Nor do I give a rat's ASS what you think."  
  
Oliver only muttered something to himself that sounded something like 'arrogant fucking prat.'  
  
"What?" Flint cupped his hand to his ear, "Now, Oliver." but he didn't finish for when he looked down to glance at Wood, he only saw his back departing for the castle. He immediately descended and letting his broom drop to the ground, he strode swiftly after Oliver. When he was close enough he grabbed Wood by the shoulder and fiercely spun him around and then pushed him backward with both hands.  
  
Wood dropped his broom, but kept his footing.  
  
"WHAT FLINT!?!?!!" Oliver shouted. He went to grab his broom, but Flint beat him to it.  
  
"Nice piece of equipment you've got yourself here, Wood" Flint said in a mostly civil tone.  
  
"Yeah it's a custom design of the Nimbus 2000 I had specially crafted to."  
  
"Of course, it's nothing to the 2001" Flint said smugly.  
  
"True, but when it comes down to it what matters most is the talent of the rider rather than th-"  
  
"Do I detect jealousy Wood?"  
  
"Of what?!" Oliver replied indignantly.  
  
"Of all that is Marcus Flint," he felt as if he were in a dream, 'Wouldn't it be funner to start a physical. brawl, or at least one of tongues? .. Words that is.' He thought to himself. However, his brain didn't seem to get the picture, because he was enjoying the company, Wood's company. "Am not," He accidentally thought aloud.  
  
"What?" Oliver was confused, not only by Marcus's strange comment, but by the whole situation.  
  
"Nothing," Flint mumbled, continuing to go against his instincts by not ending the conversation.  
  
"So your favorite team is Puddlemere United, huh?" Marcus asked.  
  
"Yeah, and the Arrows." Oliver replied, asking himself why he was having a conversation with Marcus Bastard Flint in the middle of the night, "You're a Falcons fan I'm sure."  
  
"As a matter of fact I am"  
  
"They play your type of game"  
  
"Oh you mean the type where I win"  
  
"Not always"  
  
"We'll see," Marcus said nonchalantly; he was enjoying talking about his favorite topic with someone whose level of interest matched his own. When the boys stopped talking, however, the uncomfortable feelings returned. After a few awkward moments, Flint broke the silence.  
  
"You never answered my question, Wood," the spite returning lightly to his voice.  
  
"What question?" Oliver asked guardedly, clearly confused again.  
  
"About your jealousy," Flint replied casually, "Not that it's anything to be ashamed of; I mean not everyone has." Marcus trailed off; Wood had grabbed his broom and was now retreating to the castle. Marcus was after him in half a second. This time he grabbed Oliver by the hair from behind and yanked him towards him. Oliver was nearly knocked off his feet, but instead landed against Flint's quidditch perfected chest. Marcus wrapped Oliver tightly in his arms and pressed his lips to Wood's right ear. "Nobody walks away from me Oliver, it's not a smart thing to do," he whispered. Wood fought to free himself for a second, but then just froze, as Flint's snug embrace became a suffocating death hold.  
  
"That's right, give up; you can't win with me Wood." Marcus said into Oliver's ear once he stopped fighting.  
  
"That's not always the case, Flint." Wood grunted uncomfortably.  
  
"Yes, it is." Marcus said pressing even closer to Oliver's ear and biting it at the end. He didn't even know why, it just seemed like the proper thing to do at the moment.  
  
Shocked, Wood inhaled sharply.  
  
"Did you just bite me?"  
  
"No!" Marcus pushed him away quickly, "Get out of here Wood!"  
  
Oliver was completely confused, but dared to push Flint further, "I think you did, Flint, I think you bit my ear, and you know what else I."  
  
Flint grabbed Oliver by the front of his robes and pulled him close, Wood looked into Flints stone grey eyes, and was lost for words for the first time in his life.  
  
"WHAT were you saying Wood? I'm quite intrigued."  
  
Oliver swallowed, "I'm surprised you know that word Flint."  
  
"Out with it!" Flint pulled Oliver closer still.  
  
"I was going to say that I think you enjoyed it."  
  
"You wish," Flint said casually.  
  
Wood didn't say a word and for one awkward moment, the two just stood looking into each other's eyes, until without warning, Flint captured Wood in a deep angry kiss. 


	4. Sweet Dreams

Warning: Yep. This is still slash...well sort of. Anyway it will be.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.  
  
Notes: Ok thank you to all the people who know they deserve it,  
special thanx to Jess for helping me to get over my block and actually  
writing a few  
lines of the story. Also, I really do apologize for the fact that this  
is so short, and took so long to get here. And last but not least, thank  
you to  
everyone who is still reading this after so long.  
  
CHAPTER 4  
  
'What the fuck is the matter with me?' Marcus questioned himself  
within his mind, as he got into the shower. Marcus knew he liked boys,  
but no matter how hot the world thought Oliver Wood might be, he detested  
the Gryffindor. "What the FUCK is the matter with me?" He repeated aloud,  
upon entering the shower. 'Ok,' He thought to himself, 'What happened  
tonight? I ate dinner, I fucked Snape, I couldn't hit Oliver...No Wood;  
his name is Wood! Ok, anyway I kissed Wood, he didn't pull away, he  
didn't kiss back...or did he, maybe a little, I let him go, threatened  
him that if he didn't leave I would kick his ass, his nice ass...NO!!!'  
"FUCK!!! Why am I so fucked up?" He finished aloud, as he began to bang  
his head against the wall. "WHY...am I...." Marcus sighed. "Come on  
Flint...you know the answer to that question." He ran his fingers through  
his hair, and let the water soothe his thoughts. "You know the answer to  
that question, because..." He reminded himself. "You know the answer to  
everything."  
  
Marcus tried to think about anything else. Tried to think about  
quidditch, but that reminded him of Wood. Then, he tried to think about  
his studies, but for some reason, THAT reminded him of Wood. He finally  
gave up however, when trying to think about Snape even reminded him of  
the sexy, no stupid Gryffindork. 'You know...' Marcus thought to  
himself. 'Things would be a lot easier if Wood just didn't exist.' Marcus  
smirked slightly. 'I could arrange that.' He decided that it might make  
him feel particularly good to beat up Wood, or maybe hex him. Upon  
further thoughts of planning exactly what he would do to Oliver, Marcus  
decided that he had better just go to bed.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  


* * *

  
Oliver walked up to the Gryffindor common room extremely confused,  
slightly disgusted, and more than a little frustrated by how things had  
turned out. "What the hell is the matter with him?" He asked the empty  
corridor; he received no answer. 'Maybe I should be wondering what's  
wrong with me.' The keeper thought to himself. Oliver had never liked  
anyone before, not any girls, not any guys. He had never thought about  
anything other than Quidditch and classes. Of course, he had thought  
about other things in his life, but never this intently. The keeper had  
never fantasized about kissing a girl, or feeling her breast. Now  
however, he could not get the thought of kissing Marcus Flint out of his  
mind. When he went to go to bed, he discovered that he had the business  
of his erection to deal with first. As he thought of all the wonderful  
things that he and his enemy could be, he came harder than he ever had  
before. That night, after Oliver finally cleaned up and fell asleep, the  
keeper dreamed such wonderful dreams of kissing and dreams of having  
someone to care about and someone to care about him.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  


* * *

  
Marcus sat quietly next to Terence at the Slytherin table; he hardly touched his breakfast. He could see the Gryffindor table from where he sat, and he could not stop himself from looking at Wood every couple of seconds, not for lack of trying though. The Gryffindor hadn't caught him looking yet, so Marcus figured not all was yet lost. He forced himself to focus on his oatmeal for a bit, as he swirled his spoon through it.  
  
"Late night studying, Flint?" Terence asked him with a confident smirk that was soon to be knocked off his face, "Snape get you all caught up with potions?"  
  
"Shove it, Higgs." Marcus said and looked back across the hall to the Gryffindor table; he was caught a bit off guard however, when he found himself looking right into Oliver Wood's eyes. He refused to look away, though because Oliver had been looking at him. He instead arched an eyebrow, and favored him with an intimidating sneer.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  


* * *

  
Oliver sat with his breakfast in front of him, taking bites of egg occasionally. He could not help looking across the hall to steal glances at the Slytherin team's lead Chaser. He must have gotten carried away however, because he didn't even blink when Fred hit him in the face with a bit of hash browns.  
  
"I think he's trying to hex the Slytherins." George told his brother. "Hey Oliver, you have to say the words out loud for the hex to work." Fred added.  
  
Oliver paid them no heed, just continued to gaze into the eyes of Marcus Flint. Wait. *Into* the eyes? Flint was looking back at him. Wood's face suddenly began to turn a shade of red that rivaled the Weasley's hair.  
  
"I gotta go." Oliver stood and gathered his things as quickly as possible; he nearly tripped over his own feet as he fled the Great Hall.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  


* * *

  
Marcus smirked and then resumed his breakfast as if nothing was out of the ordinary. "Did we have a test in herbology today Higgs?" He said, acknowledging his friend. Marcus had decided not to think about the boy he had kissed on the Quidditch pitch the night before, he was not going to let that stupid keeper steal anymore of his thoughts, he was not going to be troubled over liking the honey eyed boy. Whether or not his plan would work was something else entirely. 


	5. Just This Once

Warning: Yep. This is still slash...well sort of. Kinda. Rating is for themes and language.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot.  
  
Notes: Sorry this isn't one of the better or more eventful chapters in my opinion, but I felt it was important. Ok thank you to all the people who know they deserve it. Also, I really do apologize for the fact that this isn't much longer than the other ones. And again, thank you to everyone who is still reading this after so long.  
  
CHAPTER 5  
  
Oliver shook his head as if to clear it, as he walked toward the  
dungeons. He could not stop thinking about Marcus, and it didn't help  
that they had double potions next. It was a strange feeling to Oliver  
that seized him when he thought of the other boy, and it was not a  
feeling that he could explain, for he had never felt it before. It was  
almost as great a feeling as winning a quidditch match, yet as bad a  
feeling as losing one. As he walked in dread of the feelings that would  
surely overtake him as soon as he saw the larger boy, he wasn't exactly  
watching where he was going. He ran right into someone's back. Whether  
it was the surprise or the force that almost knocked him down, it didn't  
matter because he was able to keep his footing.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
Marcus stood outside the classroom of Professor Severus Snape, talking to  
several of his teammates and friends. Montague was staring at one of  
their female classmates as she bent over to pick up her quill, Bletchy  
was staring much the same way at Marcus (who stood brooding in his  
thoughts) Higgs was nearly about to crack up about his suspicion of  
Marcus and the professor's tutoring arrangement, and Warrington was going  
on about something or another, no doubt bitching about who was the  
smartest in Slytherin house.  
  
"How the hell do *you* get better marks than*me* let alone *Higgs*? He's  
like the smartest one in our year, at least in Slytherin." Warrington  
marveled, "I mean no offense Flint, you have other talents but you're not  
exactly..."  
  
"Shut up." Marcus commanded, and that was all he needed to say. Before  
anyone could steer the conversation in another direction, a rather lost  
looking Oliver Wood walked right into Marcus Flint's back. Marcus barely  
moved; it was as if he hadn't even felt it. Slowly he turned to see the  
embarrassed face of the Gryffindor Keeper. Again, he arched an eyebrow,  
and favored Wood with the same sneer he had shown the keeper that  
morning. He thought to tell Oliver that they had to stop meeting like  
this, but that just wouldn't do.  
  
"Just where the bloody hell do you think you're going? Open your damned  
eyes! Merlin!" He did not sound as angry as he did annoyed; perhaps it  
was because he had been waiting for a chance to look into the honey-  
depths of Wood's eyes since the boy had fled the Great Hall earlier that  
day. Mostly out of surprise, he didn't try to stop the boy as he walked  
past him, mumbling an apology.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
"Erm sorry," Oliver said, not bothering to be as witty as he normally was  
when arguing with the Slytherin. He didn't wait for a response before  
walking into the classroom and finding a seat. He let his head fall onto  
the table with a soft thump after he slumped into a seat in the back of  
the room. Oliver had never, in his life spent this much time thinking  
about anything this much before, except of course for Quidditch. Why  
would he wish every second for an excuse to see the dark eyed boy, or to  
touch him, somehow feel that rough passionate kiss of his once more? As  
class went on, Oliver squashed three eyes of newts, stepped on two  
salamanders and spilt his mermaid blood. On more than several occasions,  
his attention was drawn to the seat near the front in which Marcus Flint  
sat sleeping. It was almost comical, Marcus sat with his head leaned  
back and his mouth open. That sparked thoughts in Oliver's mind of  
exactly what he wanted from that mouth, and he almost had to leave the  
classroom because of it. Somehow, Oliver got through the class alive.  
As he packed up to leave, Oliver noticed a short skinny boy cautiously  
trying to awaken Flint. On his way out, Wood dropped a small piece of  
parchment into Flint's open bag. For the rest of the day he wondered  
about whether or not the note had been a mistake, and about whether or  
not Marcus would even find it. Then he began to wonder what Marcus would  
even *do* with that note; he should have put an incineration charm on it.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
Marcus lay on his bed, thinking about the events of the day, and those of  
the night before. Deciding that there was no other way to get his mind  
off it, he opened his book-bag. If there was anything that could save  
him from thoughts of Oliver, or at least partially save him, it was  
homework. Reaching in to grab his charms text, he felt a stray piece of  
parchment. It read, 'Meet me again tonight on the pitch. Midnight.'  
There was no doubting whom it was from, the real question was if he was  
going to go. "That's no question." He said aloud, earning an awkward  
look from Bletchy. After destroying the note, Marcus decided to take  
another shower; he needed to do some thinking amongst other things that  
often came along with thinking, at least in his case.  
  
For the first time since he had kissed the beautiful boy he had always  
deemed the enemy, Marcus allowed his thoughts to drift to Oliver Wood;  
surely, it couldn't hurt just this once. And great thoughts they were  
too. Soft tanned skin, deep honey eyes, and all the muscles on that  
wonderful body. One muscle was prevalent in those thoughts though, and  
even though Marcus had never seen it, his imagination did great things.  
Half wishing, he pretended his own hand belonged to the object of his  
thoughts. When he returned to his dorm, Marcus was clearly in a better  
mood than when he had left and appeared much more relaxed. He had also  
decided to meet the Gryffindor later, if for no other reason than to see  
what he might want. 


	6. Don't Play With Me

Warning: Yep. This is still slash...well sort of. Kinda. Rating is for themes and language.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except what I'm trying to call the plot. Oh but if it *did* belong to me. Hmm that is a nice thought.  
  
Notes: Ok thank you to all the people who know they deserve it. Also, I really do apologize for the fact that this is so short. And last but not least, thank you to everyone who is still reading this after so long. Thanx to Jess-ie-kins! The signature bastard smirk line as well as much of the beginning couple sentences are compliments of her Actually, she just about wrote this chapter. So and extra special thank you to *my* Marcus Flint, Jess thanx for bein my muse.  
  
CHAPTER 6  
  
Marcus sat in the darkness of the common room as he waited for midnight to come. He strolled down the hill towards the Quidditch Pitch at nearly twenty midnight, secretly hoping he hadn't waited too long. He decided he had to make the other boy wonder if he was going to show at all. The dark haired Slytherin plastered that signature bastard smirk of his on his face as he approached his rival.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~* ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
Oliver had spent the moments since he wrote that note regretting it. It wasn't because he didn't mean it or that he wanted to take it back, he was just scared. Scared of his feelings and what they meant, scared of Marcus not showing up, and mostly scared of what would happen if he *did* show up. He had been on the pitch at quarter to midnight and was just preparing to head back to the common room, when he again found himself face-to-face with his newest infatuation.  
  
"I didn't think you'd show up." Oliver admitted bashfully.  
  
"What do you want Wood?" The Slytherin spat hatefully. He didn't wait for the other boy to answer, "Haven't got a crush on me have you?" Marcus teased in a cruel voice.  
  
Oliver immediately felt the need to be on the defensive, "No! Wha...Why would you think that?"  
  
Oliver took a step back as Marcus took one forward. Grabbing the front of Oliver's robes, Marcus pulled him unnecessarily close, "Because of this," He said before kissing the shorter boy passionately yet not as roughly as the last time. Oliver felt himself kissing back, while his emotions ran through his entire body like electric waves.  
  
"Don't play with me Marcus!" He shouted, trying to free himself from the other boy's grasp. Marcus laughed almost sadistically as he released the other boy, who stumbled slightly at the sudden release of his robes but regained his balance easily. "Oh don't worry...the time for play will come. Unfortunately, now is not that time." Marcus said with a slight smirk and a glint of mischief in his dark eyes. Oliver straightened his robes a bit, "What are you talking about?" He was rather confused. His eyes lit up in horror as it hit him, "I don't, I would never..."  
  
"Don't flatter yourself Wood; I was talking about tomorrow's match." Marcus said grinning; he had gotten the exact reaction he had hoped for.  
  
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~* ~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~  
  
Marcus considered the other boy for a moment, before a brilliant idea seized his thoughts. He was more than positive that it would work greatly to his advantage. Marcus took a step closer to the Gryffindor Keeper, a look of seductive mischief flickering in his dark eyes. "Though of course...perhaps if a little lust filled session is what you're lookin' for by asking me here..." Marcus told the other boy as he placed a hand on the small of his back and pulled him close for the second time that evening. "We might be able to work something out that could prove to be interesting."  
  
The Gryffindor fell easily against the other boys Quidditch defined chest. His arms fell to rest on Marcus's shoulder and when he looked up, he found himself gazing into a pair of dark eyes spiked with lust. Oliver felt his cheeks redden and his lips parted slightly when the other boy's grip on him tightened considerably. "So whattaya say Wood?" Marcus said in a growl so low the Keeper pressed against him might mistake it for a purr. He was enjoying toying with Oliver Wood's obviously fragile emotions; this would surely become his new favorite hobby. "How about we make this a night to remember?" He said grinding his hips into Oliver.  
  
Oliver didn't know what to think, was Marcus saying that he shared his feelings? No that couldn't be it; he couldn't even know what Oliver's feelings were.  
  
Marcus looked into his rival's face; the shorter boy clearly didn't realize how easy he was to read. When the sandy-haired boy didn't answer, Marcus leaned in to steal another kiss from his rival. He made it a point to make the kiss soft, and faked a caring nature behind it.  
  
Oliver was easily taken in by Marcus's nearly flawless performance of a human being. Perhaps it was his sudden attraction that made him want to believe the boy, or perhaps the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach, or perhaps it was the tingling in his groin. Never the less, it was not long before the Gryffindor keeper found himself leaning into the kiss and giving into the emotions that threatened to drown him if he didn't. The next thing Oliver knew, he found himself lying on the ground. Marcus Flint was atop him, kissing passionately.  
  
Marcus snaked a hand under the leaner boy's shirt and began tracing the muscles of the boy's chest with his Quidditch calloused fingers. Marcus toyed with the Keeper's nipples until he felt the boy's swelling erection beneath him. Pulling out of the kiss they were currently engaged in and moving his mouth to the ear of the boy beneath him, he breathed into it and whispered. "So, Wood what's in this for me?" He licked the boy's ear and gave it a small bite.  
  
Oliver opened his eyes wide in shock, had he really been that stupid? Apparently. Looking up at the dark eyes of Marcus Flint, he now saw the amused smirk and the malice in those eyes; he could not say a thing. He started to ask Marcus what he was talking about, he started to tell him that he didn't understand; Marcus laughed.  
  
"Did you honestly think I would even *touch* you Wood, without it having a purpose?" He laughed again, "You're dumber than I thought. Fancy that." Marcus feigned thoughtfulness with a cruel humor in his stony eyes.  
  
"Get off of me!" Oliver said in anger, squirming beneath the stronger boy.  
  
Marcus laughed darkly at the other boy's pathetic display, "Oh I would...but you see...I don't really believe that you want me to do that." Marcus leaned down and began to suck at the creamy flesh of the crook of Oliver Wood's neck; gently he nipped at it, "Am I right?" Oliver didn't say anything; he couldn't, he was lost in a place between pleasure and reality. It was nice there he decided, so nice in fact, that he didn't mind the Slytherin's next comment. "So...I repeat Wood...what is in this for me?"  
  
Oliver tilted his neck to the side slightly to allow the boy above him better access, if it felt this good did it really matter if Marcus didn't share his feelings. "I d-don't know." He sucked in a breath as Marcus began to trail his tongue over his skin. "Anything you want." Oliver blurted out in the heat of the moment; he had never felt this good before. Marcus kissed his neck one last time before pulling back and gazing at him, his smirk had returned full force, "Well you know..." Marcus told the boy slyly, "There is a Quidditch match tomorrow..."  
  
Oliver was completely snapped out of the pleasure oasis he had been residing in and jerked away from Marcus as much as he could. "I would never!" Oliver was furious, "Move." In his sudden anger, he had found the force required to push Marcus from him. "That's low...even for you. Though of course I guess a troll like yourself would need to do such things to win on account of your poor skills," He paused for a moment, "What's a matter? Can't take anyone in a fair match? Oh that's right *you* can't."  
  
"Big words Wood...but I could ask you a few questions of my own. What's a matter? Can't find anyone to fuck you for free?" Marcus looked the perfect example of cruel as Oliver looked at him one last time before retreating towards the castle.  
  
Oliver could feel the tears threatening to fill his eyes, it made him feel like some sort of baby to be feeling the way he did. 


End file.
